Haunted
by MonsturrBonesxxx3
Summary: He comes home from another long night of being Batman, and feels like maybe he can have a normal rest of the night, but that's impossible for him with the Joker on his case. It may be a bit confusing, but you'll hopefully get it in the end. Batman/Joker
1. Haunted I

**Title:** Haunted  
**Genre:** Crazy  
**Pairing:** There's none really, until the end. Joker/Batman  
**Rating:** PG-13, for blood.  
**Summary:** He comes home from his long nights of being Batman, and thinks he have a normal night for a moment of his life, but really, when is the Batman's life ever normal with the Joker around?  
**Author's Note:** This is my best Batman piece yet. I seriously think I did an awesome job at Bruce losing his mind. You may get confused at some points, because he's having some real conflicts with himself, but you may understand it after a while. PLEASE READ AND COMMENT! I love your opinions :  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Batman.

"Another long night out, Mr. Wayne?"

An exasperated and very exhausted sigh escaped Bruce's lips as he entered his home, raking the jet-black Batman mask off of his head to run a hand through his sweat-slicked brunette hair. His dark blue eyes sent a tired smile in the old butler's direction as his hands unbuckled the utility belt from his waist. "Just another normal night for the Batman, Alfred."

Alfred nodded his head, a kind smile on his face now. "I set some fresh towels in the bathroom so you's could take a shower. Go get yourself cleaned up, and get to bed."

"Thanks," Bruce said, voice full of gratefulness as he dragged himself up the curved stairway, his hand dragging along the cherry wood rail, eyes dancing with the lights flickering on his diamond clad chandelier. This was his home, nothing special in his opinion, but others would think differently of his rich furnished home. But in reality - it was just _home_ - to him anyway. A place to rest his head on night's he had the time to, where he could feel safe, and remember he wasn't just Batman, he was human - he was Bruce Wayne.

He followed the hallway to his door, and opened it with a leather gloved hand, and inside was just his usual room - the walls clothed with a tan colored paint; floors rugged with only the finest plush carpets, a bed carved from oak and sheets of nice, soft Egyptian fabric. Nothing special. Letting out a yawn, he stripped himself of his armor, and let it fall to the floor, and then proceeded to remove his second skin, leaving him naked in his room.

Bruce gave a grunt as his eyes fell upon his open window. Did Alfred do that? His shoulders lifted up in a lazy shrug, then slumped back down as he strode over to close them. The night sky was dark above him, no stars tonight, were there ever stars present in Gotham City? A frown appeared on his face at the sudden realization. No stars . . . And he'd never noticed. Biting his upper lip he shook his head, and closed the windows and their beautiful, purple silk curtains.

His eyes lingered on those curtains, his hands still holding tightly to the smooth fabric in his grip. Purple . . . ? _Batsy_. With widened eyes, panic coursed through Bruce's veins. The Joker. That name was like a ghost to him, haunting him everywhere he went. He couldn't sleep, couldn't think, couldn't blink without that purple clown jumping into his thoughts; consuming his mind with those dark ringed eyes. Those menacing, entrancing forest green eyes. _What's the matter, Bats, baby? You can't stop thinking about your favorite clown?  
_**  
Those eyes!** Bruce couldn't take it, as he tore the curtains down, and backed up into his bed, the soft mattress catching him in his fall. Finally looking up, his lungs raced for air; panting, chest billowing in and out with each desperate breath. _Good, breathe Batsy. In and out, in and out, in and out. Doesn't it make you think of kinky things when I say in and out?  
_**  
Ugh!** Clutching his forehead, Bruce lowered himself down to his knees, cradling his head in-between his legs and rocking back and forth to clear his mind. Too many nights playing the roll of Batman was finally getting to him. **I need a shower. Maybe it'll clear my mind.**

It was more than just being Batman. It was that stupid clown, always there, always wrecking things and killing. Bruce was constantly being reminded of the other's presence, the Joker made _damn sure _of that. He left bodies with notes of hearts and messages saying 'To my beloved Batsy' and all that other stupid shit the Joker did. Batman was never free from the clutches of those purple, leather gloves. He needed a break. Needed to clear his mind . . . **Take a shower, maybe. Yeah, that'll help.**

With a heavy sigh Bruce untangled himself from his feeble position, and looked at the mess he had made. The purple curtains were on the floor in a heap, and was that _blood_? Bruce could feel the nausea rise to his throat as he lifted his hands to examine them. He'd cut himself, but how? Why was he _bleed_ing?

As he looked closer, he found the wound behind the blood. Nice, long, ragged cuts sliced down his arms. They were as if someone had used their nails to rake them down his arms, and there was more than one - three - on each arm. Had he done that to himself? Had he hurt himself in his state of panic? _Look at the blood, Batsy. Look at it. Doesn't it make you go CRAZY?  
_  
Something was happening to Bruce, and he knew it. Something wasn't right. Was he . . . losing his mind? **No. Breathe Bruce. Calm down. Take a SHOWER, and breathe. CLEAR your mind!  
**  
Shaking his head of any more thoughts he stood himself up to his feet, hands placed up in front of him as if they had a disease, and he stumbled to the bathroom, the blood escaping his arms and dripping to the floor. The first thing he did was turn the faucet to the bath on, and he ignored the blood that splattered onto the nice white porcelain surface, staining it red. He ignored the blood that dripped to the nice, white tile floor. He ignored it, because it was making him _crazy, Batsy. You're losing your mind!  
_**  
You're FINE Bruce. Bandage your arms and take a bath. CLEAR YOUR MIND. **That's just what he did. He opened the medicine cabinet above his sink, and ignored the blood that bled into his sink, _with each droplet that lands, it breaks, and splatters into millions of more crimson droplets. Look at it, Batsy. LOOK AT IT!  
_  
His breaths were strangled in his throat, his chest felt like bricks were being placed on it, weighing him down. His mind was racing; dizzy; losing itself with all these voices in his head. In his dazed condition, he didn't notice all the things he pushed out of his way, falling to the floor. He didn't care, as he found the medical tape, slammed the toilet seat down and sat himself on it, and then proceeded to get the tape out of its case, but he did. He struggled to bandage each arm, to wrap it around perfectly with the medical tape, but he succeeded, and let a sigh of relief fall from his lips. "I'm _fi_ne."

It was time to calm down. He let his breathing even out before he remembered the bath that was filling with water, and he stood to his feet and turned the faucet off. The water looked inviting, nice, warm, and steamy. Closing his eyes, he stepped into his tub, and lowered himself down, making sure his freshly bandaged arms were on either edge and not in the water, and he leaned back against the back of the tub. It was so relaxing; clearing his mind, _clearing your mind.  
_  
Opening his eyes back up he closed the shower curtain, and he let out a content sigh. The water felt wonderful against his hot, sticky skin. It smoothed out his aching muscles, and calmed him down. Another sigh escaped his lips as he looked down at the water, at his reflection that rippled along its surface.

He looked so tired, so old, in this reflection. _You're getting older, aren't you? _**You're only thirty-four, Bruce. You're just tired.  
**  
What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he having arguments with himself? _Batsy's losing his mind!_

A high-pitched laughter broke out in his ear, and he couldn't help but react in a way only Batman would, but he was Batman, so it came naturally. Looking up with expectant, ready-for-action, blue eyes, he found nothing. Then where had it come from, if it was nothing? He looked up at the shower curtain, and almost had a heart attack.

Why so serious?

The Joker. It had to be. It was evident!

He stood to his feet, water splashing around him, tipping over the edge and landing on the floor as he grabbed the plastic curtain and pulled it back, revealing nothing but . . . and empty bathroom. The medical still laid unraveled on the sink's edge, pill containers still rested on the floor, the caps beside them and the contents scattered about. He snarled as he pulled the curtain back out again, and there was _nothing there_.  
**  
Bruce, calm down. It was only your imagination playing tricks on you. Clean yourself up and go get some much needed sleep.** He listened to the voice, and sat back down, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and pouring a large, goo-y amount into his hand, then slathering it into his hair, he rubbed his scalp really good. Taking a large inhale, he laid back down into the water, and held his breath.

The sound of water was soothing. It was calm, and nice. The soft bubbles in his ear, the swish of every move he made. It was as if he had to open his eyes, to relieve a selfish side of himself. The surface was clear, it was of his ceiling - his nice, white ceiling - and of waves on the top. It was what you'd expect to see, I guess.

Just as Bruce was beginning to mellow out, something leaned over the edge of the tub, and looked down at him through thick, round black paint. _Batsy. _The face was blurry and white, but the lips were painted red, and it was evident. _Why so serious, Batsy?_The figure tilted its head, and the red of its lips opened up, widening, was it _grin_ning at him? _You look SCARED to see _me. Bruce's eyes widened too, and the creature above him shook with _laugh_ter? _Let's put a smile on that face. _And suddenly a hand appeared, a purple gloved hand, that reached into the water to get him. Bruce didn't like that. He squirmed, struggled - anything to fight that hand away, but it still kept coming. _Smile for me, lover boy!_

It grabbed a hold of his hair and lifted him up, and suddenly -

He was in his bathroom, with a very concerned looking Alfred staring at him from the side. "Sir? You were under when I came in, and when I said your name, you didn't respond, so I got worried. I hope you're not trying to kill yourself on my watch, Master Wayne. I wouldn't want the police to think it was my fault."

"Alfred . . . I saw him. He was looking down at me when I was under the water. He was trying to get me!"

The old butler frowned, and raised a hand to Bruce's forehead, pushing back some bangs that were stuck to his face and setting the back of his hand to the wet and warm skin. "Sir, I think you need to get some rest. Get yourself dried up and go to bed. You've spent too many nights out patrolling and it has gotten you a bit crazy, it does."  
**  
Sleep. Bruce. You NEED sleep.** The brunette nodded his head as he stood to his feet and accepted the towel that Alfred handed to him, wrapping it around himself. Alfred only glanced at the bandaged arms, and dismissed it, not wanting to bother with more of his useless rants and concerns. "I'll leave you to your business, then."

The old man walked toward the bathroom door, and opened it up, but paused before he left. "Sometimes I wish you'd remember yourself - Bruce, a human - before you remembered Batman."

The door was closed behind him, and Bruce was left frowning, staring at it. Shaking his head he closed the cabinet door, and looked into the mirror. It was him staring back, the same man he'd been for years, the same look he'd had for years. He lifted a hand and took his jaw in it, turning his own face to the side to himself over, looking for any things out of place. As he did this, out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed someone standing behind him, and upon taking a closer inspection, it wasn't someone he wanted to see at all tonight.

"Joker!" The figure smiled at the name, a large, wicked smile - one that Bruce was familiar with as he turned to face the man in purple. But no one was there, only his toilet and a wall. He could feel the anger coursing through his veins, could feel it in his uneven pants as he gripped his head and shifted back and forth, searching for the Clown Prince who he'd seen in his mirror.  
_  
Can't stop thinking about me, can you, BATSY?_ A growl rumbled in Bruce's throat as he stumbled for the door, wanting to leave that room so badly. He slammed the door shut behind him, and turned to face his bedroom instead.

There was nothing out of the ordinary; his bed was waiting for him. Heaving a heavy sigh he stalked over to it, and propped his hands on his waist as he stared down at it. **You NEED to get some rest, Bruce**.

He silently nodded to the voice's prodding in his head and walked over to his dresser, pulled open the drawer, and grabbed a pair of black, cotton boxer briefs to sleep in. Slipping them on under his towel, he removed the cloth, and revealed nice, muscled thighs that were concealed up further north in areas of privacy.

Bruce scratched gently at his finely toned chest, running the hand up further, tracing his abs, until he reached an area below his nipple, where he itched too. Everything about him was perfect, other than . . . many scars and gnashes, but other than that, Bruce could understand why girls liked him for other reasons than his wealth. He was definitely not bad looking. _Touch yourself for me, Batsy. I want to see you moan.  
_  
"That's disgusting," Bruce muttered, grimacing at the thought of his own hands wandering his body. _It's only human._ Bruce scowled at the voice. _You're only human underneath that suit of yours, Batsy. And humans sin. What, you can't sin because you're some Hero?_ "I just don't want to jerk-off for your enjoyment."  
_  
What about YOUR enjoyment?  
_  
The voice in his head clicked its tongue, and slowly tittered with giggles. Bruce stared down at his bed with blank eyes, all too consumed by his thoughts, as he scratched a spot below his ear. What about his enjoyment? Didn't he need some enjoyment in his life, too? He was only human after all. He was always doing things for other people, why not himself? **Because you don't need to, Bruce. It's WRONG.  
**_  
Is it wrong?  
_  
The brunette stared aimlessly at his bed, still, losing himself to this argument. Was it wrong? He didn't notice his hand mindlessly drawing patterns along his perfectly sculpted tummy, sending tickling sensations along his skin. He didn't notice the small smile growing on his face at the touch of his own hand. He hadn't done _any_one in a while. **Bruce, you don't need this. You're not even in the mood; you're just listening to some brainless thought in your head.  
**_  
It takes a brainless thought to know a brainless thought!  
_  
Bruce was so absorbed into this conversation inside of him that he only noticed his hand when it brushed over his nipple, and made him gasp in pleasure at the sudden jolt of feelings. The higher-pitched voice inside of him clicked its tongue, and laughed at the angry, growling voice on the other side of him. _Touching yourself - one. Sleep - zero.  
_**  
Bruce!** "I'm bored . . . " _Do it. Make yourself moan.  
_  
All this thinking, though, was making Bruce so tired. He gave a sigh of defeat and flopped onto his bed, falling like a dead man shot on the spot, and cuddling into the covers like a cat. "I'm tired," he whispered under his breath, breathing in the clean smell of his sheets. **Looks like you lose. **_Asshole . . .  
_

The window shifted in its place, and slowly, it rose, letting in the night air. The figure on the bed shuddered, but only stirred, didn't wake. The bed creaked under added weight, but the person in the bed didn't notice, only curled tighter into a ball. Hands like tree branches slithered up his chest, and pinched the soft skin beneath. Only a soft groan was made.

"Stop."

It stopped. The shadow looming over the man froze to listen, smiling as no other words of protest were made. Leaning in close, the shadow released a slimy object from its mouth, and let it slide up the man's neck, over the tip of his jaw, and tracing his cheek bone, stopping at the hair line. The shadow breathed against the man's ear, slow and steady, in a rhythm, and that smile grew larger on his face.

"Wake up, Batsy."

The figure beneath the shadow shivered at the voice, and turned, eyelids flickering open, revealing two deep blue eyes that immediately widened at the creature above him. "You!"

Slapping a hand over those tempting, pale, pink lips, the shadow shoved the man's words back down his throat. Red crept over his jaw line, as that smile widened further, deeper. "Hello beautiful."

Bruce's eyes widened up at the familiar face above him, those _menacing, entrancing forest green eyes . . . _The smile suddenly left the face, and the creature's head tilted to the side, but that smile never did leave for long, and that creature never did stop laughing, and those eyes _mocked his soul_. "Joker . . . "

The creature smiled even larger - if that was possible - at the name. It bent down low, real low, real close to those lips - so close that if he came an inch closer he could steal a kiss. Bruce's breath caught in his throat as he felt that warm breath on him, as he felt the voices in his head screaming at him from _all_ directions. Suddenly, as if on cue, those lips pressed against his, and all his thoughts stopped, and his mind was _silenced.  
_  
Pulling away, _the Joker_, beamed down at him through **those eyes**.

" I bet you went _cra_zy without me."  
_**  
You have no idea.**_


	2. Haunted II

**Title:** Haunted II  
**Genre:** Twisted, Romance, Angst  
**Pairing:** Batman/Joker  
**Rating:** M, since there is sexual content and swearing.  
**Summary:** "Admit it; it wasn't h_i_m going crazy without y_o_u, it was y_o_u going crazy without h_i_m."  
**Author's Note:** I decided to make a sequal, since lots of people seemed to enjoy the first part. It's in Joker's point of view. I thought I'd brush up on my skills at portraying him. Hope you like it  
**Disclaimer:** Would the real Batman owner please stand up? Because it's definitely not me.

(We continue at "You must've gone _crazy_ without me," and continue in the Joker's point of view from here.)

"You must've gone _cra_zy without me."

Look at him. Look at those _eyes_. Look at them _spar_kle with rage; pure _ha_te. Don't you just want to _ri_p them out of that pretty head of his?

The teeth, watch out for them. You didn't think he'd try to b_i_te you, did you, you moron? Batman's full of surprised, rem_em_ber that next time you stick your hand too close to other people's business, es_peci_ally a bat's. He's got a temper, doesn't he? What a _fei_sty little Bat he is.

"Ah, ah, ah, _wa_tch your tongue, _Batsy. _Be _pat_ient. We'll get to the f_u_n stuff later."

You already _kn_ow he wants you, but you gotta play it _sly_. Make him _wo_rk for what he wants. He can't always be a rich, spoiled-_brat_. Yes, you _kn_ow who the real Bat_man_ is. It was so _obvi_ous from the beginning of the _sta_rt. I mean, what guy can afford to make a suit _that_ high-tech, and not be a fucking billionaire. And who's the _rich_est bachelor in Gotham City. Bruce - Fucking - _Way_ne.

You've already got a good start on this _ga_me. You've left your mark, your, _impres_sion on him. He can't get you out of his _fuck_ing mind, and it's so _obvi_ous, but he just doesn't under_stand_. I mean, _lo_ok at the way he's eyeing you like a piece of fucking _meat_.

"How did you know it was me?"

Look at those _eyes. _Oh, he's pi_ss_ed off, of course, I mean, you _kno_w who he is. Smile at him, make him _thi_nk for a second. Oh, don't hurt him, we wouldn't want that _pret_ty brain of his to explode. Look at the way he's _wat_ching you lick your lips. Play it _sly_, don't lose your control. You're _not_ going to be losing this game.

"You're t_o_o obviou_s_."

Don't you l_o_ve the way he squirms under you. It's hitting a warmth you didn't know you had, isn't it? Making you feel things again. Admit it; it wasn't h_i_m going crazy without y_o_u, it was y_o_u going crazy without h_i_m. He gives you that . . . that th_i_ng that people n_ee_d. What was it called again. Oh, yes, a p_ur_pose. He def_ine_s you, gives you _mean_ing, a reason to l_i_ve, to keep g_o_ing in this shitty world.

"Get off of me!" he shouts, fights like a bitch, but it's not going to w_or_k. You've got this bat l_a_nd b_ou_nd, and he isn't going to fly away and tell his big, bad, mommy bat on you. Not this time. Gordon will n_o_t be interrupting this little doo-hickey you've got going on.

Damn he's strong. He didn't beat you to a pulp for nothing, you know? Touch his chest, go ahead, look at the way his back arches up for more of your touch. Oh, he loathes you, but that's okay. His skin is so fucking warm. You haven't been warm in so long. So cold, cold, cold, for far too long, long, long. Isn't it nice to see the other side for once? Didn't they always tell you the grass was greener on the other side? This must be what they meant.

Is that whimpering? Coming from the Batman? Music to your ears, isn't it? Shush him up, though. Wouldn't want to ruin his dignity, now would we? "Shh, shh, _shush_, dammit."

It's too much. He's not going to let you do this without a fight, and you know it. Should've brought the wire like I told you to . . . See, he's flipping you over, and what can you do? He's stronger than you. So much stronger. Is that his groin rubbing against your's? Isn't the friction nice. Isn't the way he squeezes your arm so hard, the bones grind together and oh god, it's always too much, delicious? He's sexier when he's angry.

"Where have you been?" Is that his Batman voice he's using on you? Trying to make himself sound tough? It's not very threatening is it? It never had been . . . It's more like, hm, what is it - it's more like a bag of gravel being ground together in your ear. It's beautiful. Oh, remember what he said, moron. He asked you where you've been. How cute. He missed you, Joker, my boy! Better answer, his grips tightening on your arms, and wouldn't it be wonderful to have a broken arm? You wouldn't be able to use your knife, would you?

"I've been out and about. Roaming the city, devising a plan."

"I thought you hated schemers." So he does listen to you when you talk . . . thought he just kind of stood and watched. How nice. How pleasant.

"Wasn't really pla_nn_ing, more like . . . figuri_ng_ things out." Yes, that's what we'll call it. We were figuring things out. We were, how you say, dividing the sensible from the un-sensible. The possibilities from the . . . not so likely. And look where that got you! You found your Bat, didn't you? "Do you have a pro_b_lem with me walking around _ou_r city?"

Oh, he doesn't like that. Not. One. _Bit_. Bruce Wayne is rich, rem_em_ber? An o_n_ly child. Didn't have to sh_ar_e when he was growing up, just got whatever the h_e_ll he wanted. His parents kept piling things on him to _sh_ut him up. Why would he want to share now? With you, of all people? You're stating the im_poss_ible, Joker, and you know it. All though, wouldn't it be nice to rule the world with the one the you . . . love? No. Love is . . . foreign. This is an _in_fatuatio_n_. A really big infatuation. It's not, in any way or form, l_ov_e.

"It's not _ou_r city. It's not m_i_ne, it's not y_our_'s. It's Mayor Garcia's."

"Of c_our_se it is. It always has been, hasn't it? It would be a shame, though, if old Mayor Garcia retired ea_r_ly . . ." Look at that r_a_ge in his eyes; look at it _glim_mer and _gr_ow, licking up his dark blue spheres like a _fla_me. He's so confused because of what you're saying, and what he's probably feeling. It's so much fun making Batsy fra_zz_led, isn't it? "What did you do to him?!"

It's always y_o_u who's to blame. Even if it wasn't you, and you were just innocently walking around, you're the fir_s_t person to be blamed if something goes wrong. Why is that? "Me? What did _I _do? I was just walking around the city, trying to figure out who y_o_u were. It must've been Maroni, or maybe one of your little puppets in bl_ue_ decided to turn against his own kind . . ."

"He's . . . he's dead, isn't he?" Of c_our_se not. Isn't it fun fucking with Batman's brain? Look at him, all spea_ch_less, all he_lp_less. This would probably be a good opportunity to flip him over and take advantage over the situation.

He's not even fighting. Sheesh, what a giant baby. He's all far eyed and heavy, like a freaking _corpse_. Did he just drop d_ea_d on you or something? That would not make you happy in the least bit. He's not even _list_ening to you as you talk! Slap him. Shit, he's ign_or_ing you! "Oh come off it you big Bat. He's not dead, I was just messing around. Come on, show me your al_iv_e and hit me!"

You just invited him to hit you. You didn't think he was going to take that offer up? What, did you actually think he was d_ea_d or something? No. Look, now you're on the floor rolling around and laughing like a r_ea_l crazy person. Laugh harder, _yeah_, that's g_oo_d. It'll only make him hit you harder. See?

"Batsy, oh," take in a deep breath, remember, you have to breathe in order to live, "You're so _fun_ny."

What a pro_vac_ative position this is, wouldn't you say so? With him on top of you, pinning you down on the floor, sitting on top of your hi_p_s like you're a ch_ai_r. "Don't fuck with me, Joker. Is he dead or not?!"

He shouldn't have done that. Oh . . .

He looks surprised. He didn't think by pushing harder on you, you wouldn't m_o_an? Um, he's kind of rubbing his _dick_ against your's, so why wouldn't you groan? Uh oh, you scared him, Joker, he's going to run!

"No, no, _no_," yes, grab him before he can get away, "I don't think so, Ba_ts_y. You can't just tease a man like that and then wal_tz_ away."

"Let me go!" Ouch. He must work out, because did you _hear_ that crack? "You're making me crazy!"

Sheesh, that h_ur_t. Is that blo_od_? Heh . . . . ha . . . . HAH! How funny. You're bleeding out your nose and your mouth, you know that r_igh_t? Do you even know why it's funny, or why you're l_augh_ing at it? Neither do I, but that's not the p_oi_nt. Now get angry, get _serious_, show him you're not going to deal with this shit. Remember, you're n_o_t going to lose this game.

Pin him down. Run your hands all over his body, memorize every in_ch_ of skin, every s_c_ar, every spot that makes him - oh, look at that, Brucey has a weak spot. Why n_o_t keep using it? "Now, li_st_en to me Bat."

His moaning is kind of distracting, but every time he arches into you, god, isn't it driving you_ insane_?! Don't lose your cool yet, though. That will come s_oo_n, just play with his mind for a bit longer. You have to br_ea_k his mind before you br_ea_k his back in. To tame the beast, you must first tame his s_ou_l. "I didn't _kill_ your precious, tattoo-ed on eyeliner, Mayor. He's still tucked away in his bed, sucking his thumb with his teddy bear in his arms, sleeping pea_ce_fully, so don't you worry your little head off."

He looks a little bit c_al_m now, even though every time you brush your hand over his nipple he stiffens up under your touch. It's his own fault for going to sleep with nothing but boxers on. Boxers. Wait, _box_ers, you forgot about them! Is that a _bulge_ growing in the crotch, or is it just a stick poking against your thigh? How con_ven_ient. Doesn't it make you smile to know you can make Bruce feel this way?

"No, _no_no_no_, I just wanted to come pay a visit to my fa_v_orite mammal."

Of c_ou_rse he doesn't believe you. He always thinks there's a ca_tch_ to things, doesn't he? You can't have a peaceful conversation with the guy without getting your face sla_mm_ed into the floor for some stupid reason. Lower your hands, get your revenge by making him tense up.

Belly button. Pant line. Crotch. _Score_!

"Don't touch me!" Well yeah he's ner_v_ous, but this can't be his first time . . . maybe with a man, _sure_, but not with a human being in general. But who knows, maybe since he's _Bat_man he's been fucking bats too. Hm . . .

You tend to get carried away in your thoughts too much, and that's a bit of a disadvantage, because now of course he flipped you over and has you on your back again. That's o_kay_, you know what makes him _tick. _All you have to do is - see,_ awe_, there you go. You've got him biting his lip, holding back that moan, but you know how to release it. "Why can't I _touch_ you? You sound like you en_j_oy it."

Arch your back a little, and, _yes_, there it is. There's that moan he tried to stifle away. Not so tou_gh_ are you, Batsy? "Stop."

"No."

His mouth tastes so g_oo_d. It's like . . . hm . . . chocolate? Who cares, it's good. So warm. His tongue may be battling you, trying to get you out, but you're de_f_initely not going anywhere. Don't get too lost in this, lover boy, _watch the teeth!_ See . . . not so arrogant now, are you? Look at you, your mouth is bleeding all over. That's what you get for not _heed_ing my word. Dumb ass.

Listen to me, here's the deal: If he does it like _this_, then you do it like _that_. If he touches like _this_, well, then you touch him like _that_. And don't forget, if he moves like _this_, move like _that_ - _s_ee, now he's writhing in pleasure under you. That's what happens when you listen to the _smar_t person in this game. Don't get too cocky with this, he's still Batman, he still has tri_ck_s up his sleeve.

Inch your hand back down, find that nice little bulge growing down there, and _squeeze_! See, isn't the way he gasps and arches up for more deli_ci_ous? You've got him r_igh_t where you want him! Now all you have to do is . . .

"Bruce?"

Fuck. You should've known he had some butler. Of course your lovely game has to get broken up. Le _sigh_. "Alfred!"

He's pushing off you like he's embarrassed or something. Is he going to act like it was y_ou_r fault? "Call Gordon! Tell him to get here a.s.ap. I'll hold him down!"

Of course . . . and that u_g_ly, old butler's giving you the sti_n_k eye like there's no tomorrow. Just give it back to him. See, he's cringing at you and leaving. Now you better give the business to Batsy. How dare he act like he didn't enjoy that! "So. You just _can't_ admit that you were aching for me to fuck you, can you?"

"Go to hell. I'd never want such a thing from you." And he thinks he's all c_oo_l now. Bastard. You just won't bring yourself to slap that pretty face of his around, will you? Not even after that. You're such a w_im_p without me.

Remind him of who's in control. "So . . . how are you going to explain that nice boner you have there, then?"

Cha-ch_ing_! You just it a nerve. Look at him staring at it as if it's a new species of animal. "Is it s_a_d to know that you got off with the Joker?"

Those pretty blue eyes are glaring at you now. He's pissed, but you don't have time to play anymore. The pigs in blue are here, sirens are ringing in your ear, and that window looks like a ni_c_e little escape route. "Don't worry, Batsy, I won't tell anyone what we did. It's our little _secret_."

Lock the vault and throw away the key, time to get to the window. "Maybe we can play another day, Batsy."

Get out the window now, their footsteps are getting cl_os_er. "In the mean time, I'll give you some time to come up with a story for your _hard_-on. Bye!"

The doors are opening too, so you're lucky you left. Don't worry, you can fuck Bruce's brains out another day. Right now, though, just revel in your victory for once.

It's only a matter_ time_ before he comes crawling back for more . . .


End file.
